


Wonky Jigsaw Puzzle Pieces

by GypsyQueen7



Series: Sore Butt,Clean Conscience [4]
Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsyQueen7/pseuds/GypsyQueen7
Summary: Voight is helping Jay with his demons - one punishment at a time. Contains non-sexual spanking of an adult
Relationships: Jay Halstead/Hank Voight
Series: Sore Butt,Clean Conscience [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747804
Kudos: 17





	Wonky Jigsaw Puzzle Pieces

Hi all, For anyone that is not familiar with the universe/series just a few pointers: basically, Voight spanks/corporally punishes his team members for errors/mistakes etc. This is obviously not sanctioned by the Chicago PD and so it done off the books to try and keep the Detective/Officers records clean from stupid mistakes. If you follow the TV series well then you will know that Voight runs by his own set of rules anyway and his demeanour lead my warped mind to this scenario and here we are. 

Warning: This will contain non-sexual spanking of an adult so if that is not your thing – consider yourself warned. Also mentions of torture and PTSD. No haters from here on in. 

All the love,

K xxx 

-

Voight’s POV

Halstead's focus seemed off ever since we had returned to the District. The perp was in handcuffs and down in booking with barely a scratch on him (much to my displeasure), evidence and the investigation files had been boxed up hours ago and with only a few hours remaining in the day the team had all settled down to finish their reports in silence - with the occasional ribbing and breaks for coffee. I turned my attention again to look out of my office window and back at Halstead. He was sitting, leaning back in his chair, pen tapping slightly against his mouth, with his gaze angled at the floor of the bull pen and not at the computer screen in front of him. I watch as Erin stands, grabbing her coffee cup off of her desk, and turns to Halstead. I see her lips moving and then Halstead jerks slightly - quickly moving his gaze away from the floor and to Erin. He pushes himself upright again and shook his head at Erin and then rubbed a hand across his face as he tried to focus his attention on the screen in front of him. I frown slightly as I turn back to my report - I had a bad feeling that I was going to get a call from Halstead tonight. He seemed too edgy, too keyed up for the end of a successful case. 

Something's eating him, I lean back in my chair as I turn over the events of the day in my head trying to find the scenario that as Jay so worked up about. 2 hours later as everyone in the bullpen begins to pack their stuff up - I'm none the wiser. Then again, me and Jay have very different convictions and moral compasses than each other - my right move could potentially be Jay's wrong one. I sigh slightly - nodding towards the wave from Erin and Antonio as they move to leave, Jay trailing behind them.

It takes two hours in the end - from the time Jay leaves the precinct to the ringing of my phone. Within 30 minutes I'm knocking on Halstead's apartment door. The door swings open to expose a worn Jay dressed in a loose t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms.

Jay’s POV

I've tried everything in the last hour and a half to calm the tightness in my chest - from boxing to running, from a beer to breathing exercises. Nothing has helped and my one last option, my sure-fire option, is sitting on my phone, the number blinking at me, mocking me in a way. It takes me another half an hour of the tightness and numbness before I cave and call. As ever Voight is a man of few words and we hand up with 30 seconds of the call being connected. I wait anxiously- hovering in my living room, wearing a hole in the carpet until the bang on the door sounds. Even though I have been waiting for it; even though I knew that the same was coming it doesn't stop me from jumping.

I open the door and there stands Voight. He fills the space in the doorway, that unsmiling look on his face and my stomach churns slightly. What have I just let myself in for? Yet even as the thought crosses my mind, I banish it again. This will make me feel better - I know in my gut that the tight feeling will vanish when this is done. 

"You gonna let me in or am I gonna stand out here all night?"

Voight's raspy voice breaks the silence and my internal struggle. I nod slightly and move to open the door further, stepping back so that the Detective Sergeant can enter my apartment.

Voight’s POV

Jay’s apartment’s a mess – there is his work bag slung haphazardly in a doorway, his workout gear is over the back of the couch, trainers laying by the front door. A beer bottle, half empty, is on the coffee table and as I move past the bathroom door, I see towels scattered across the floor and in the bedroom room adjacent to the living room, bedsheets have been balled up in a rage at the end of Halstead’s bed. The whole apartment is in disarray – it is like a hurricane has blown through. 

I shrug off my leather jacket and hang it on one of the coat pegs. I hear Jay move slightly behind me, shifting from foot to foot but not moving to cover the mess that I see as glance around. I turn around to look at him. His shoulders are drooped as he curls over himself, his eyes fixed on his bare feet, as he tries to stand still under my scrutiny. His usual confidence and military style stance is absent and he seems vulnerable and younger than usual. 

“You gonna clear this mess up?”

Jay jumps, his eyes jumping from his lounge carpet to my face and then around the room. He moves slowly, balling his workout gear in one hand and grabbing his trainers by the laces with the other before walking across his lounge to his bedroom. Over the next 5 minutes, I watch as Halstead slowly returns his apartment to its usual military precision. The beer bottle is taken into the kitchen and its contents emptied down the sink; towels are picked up off of the bathroom floor and with the apartment again looking as though Jay actually lived there, rather than a frat boy’s apartment, he stopped in the middle of the living room. 

I pull in a deep breath before settling my mind on the task ahead. I’ve known Jay the shortest amount of time out of all of my team and I’ve always been very tentative to punish Jay. With his (un-)resolved PTSD and the fact that he was tortured in the Rangers it always seemed better to let Jay come to me when he needed relief from his demons rather than the other way around. He’s the only one on that team that has that privilege – more so out of necessity for his mental health and stability than anything else. 

Jay’s POV

I notice that I’m still slightly shifting from foot to foot and internally berate myself before shifting my foot outwards to shoulder width apart and pushing my weight downwards on to the floor to avoid any more shifting. I had underwent worse than what was coming – a simple spanking could not be worse than the torture I had endured in the Rangers. My breathing picks up slightly against my will as Voight moves from his position at the entrance to my apartment to stand beside me, 

“You ready?”

I nod quickly, wanting to get this over with now. 

“Hey. There is no shame in needing a minute.”

I dart my eyes to his face and see he is deadly serious on this. I pause slightly, taking in the kindness that flickers in his eyes for a minute. I pull a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out slowly through my mouth and then I repeat this a couple of times. Every breath settles me slightly, I stop needing to shift as much and the twisting in my stomach calms more. I nod again, this time surer of what I was about to do. 

Voight must have seen something in my face that reassured him, as he moves to sit down on my couch. I pull another breath in to steady my slight nerves before lowering myself down to settle myself over Voight’s knees. 

I feel him shift slightly above me, moving my weight forwards more so that I am balanced more evenly, one of his hands comes to rest on my lower back slightly. The weight of it alone is kind of calming in a way. I used to think that I preferred the military’s punishments – very impersonal and quick – Voight was the complete opposite of that. His punishments were slow however, he always managed to add a personal touch – a hand on your back or a kind word or two. At first, I found it suffocating in a way however, knowing someone was on your side was comforting in a way. 

The first smack reverberated around my living room and I jolted forward slightly on Voight’s knees. The pain is only small as my tracksuit bottoms absorb most of the hit. Yet as the second and third strike hits, I feel that tightness in my chest loosen with every strike. 

Soon enough the strikes are coming thick and fast – my butt has increased to throbbing sensation now. I feel Voight slow to a stop. I move to protest – the tightness is still there – I need more than this. But just as I go to say the same, my tracksuit bottoms are slid downwards, exposing my bare butt. My mouth shuts with a snap at this. I breath again – Voight knows what I need. 

My eyes scrunch tightly shut as the first real smack comes down. This smack makes the other hits seem like love taps compared as his hand hits my bare butt. The red-hot pain starts and just as it starts to wane, another smack lights up my other butt cheek. As the next 10 strikes fall I begin to shift slightly on his lap, trying to moving away from the smacks. I start to tense as I try to keep the noises that are bubbling up in my throat down. I still again as Voight’s other hand on my back begins to move again in circles.

Over the next ten minutes the pain increases tenfold to an inferno. With one more strike, the tears that have been welling in my eyes for the last ten strikes suddenly spill down my face and the noises that I have tried to keep in are released. I move to press my face into the crook of my arms on the seat of the couch in front of me as tears stream down my face in rivulets. With that the tightness in my chest eases and for the first time in the last 4 hours I can breathe deeply again. 

Voight’s POV

My hand is tingling and Jay’s butt is bright red by the time that he lets go. His face is hidden in his arms on the sofa cushion as he sobs. His shoulders rise and fall as he draws in air. I move slightly, pulling up Jay’s tracksuit bottoms to cover his modesty as I slid out from under his lap, settling his legs on the sofa. I resist the urge to lay a hand on Jay to comfort him – a hand on his head or shoulder – he won’t appreciate it any more than Antonio appreciated it. They both needed their time to process and straighten their heads out again. The only comfort I allow myself to afford Jay right now is to pull the striped blanket off of the back of the couch to tuck it around him marginally. 

After this I move away and move a chair from the kitchen into the lounge. I pick the tv remote off of the coffee table and find a game on the tv. Setting the same on mute, I settling back in the chair to wait. 

It takes Jay a full hour to come back to himself – the crying had turned to shaky breathing around 40 minutes ago and the rise and fall of his back had shown him to have returned to normal breathing 10 minutes after that. Never did he raise his head from the tent of his arms, however, he did move slightly more under the blanket. Without a word, Jay finally raised himself from the sofa and walked into the bathroom with his head down. The sound of water running and then stopping was loud in the quiet apartment. I look up as Jay enters again – his eyes are red rimmed and he is walking stiffly yet his head is up, his shoulders back and that military stance is back. The defiance that I am so used to now is in his eyes again and I feel a sense of calm come back to me. 

I never like punishing my newest member of the team – it goes against all of my instincts to punish a team member without a reason. It made me uneasy however, I’d prefer to be able to regulate the punishment than have Halstead go and try and find his salvation for the imagined crime on his own. 

Halstead is hovering at the end of the lounge now, watching me. I switch the game off and turn to face the couch fully now, nodding at him to sit down. He moves, sitting slowly, wincing at the pain of the leather on his covered butt. I raise an eyebrow and wait. Jay knows the conditions of our agreement – I’ll punish him however, he has to tell me what for afterwards.

He looks down at his hands a moment before sighing, 

“I hurt that kid to get the location for the murderer.”

I sigh – I knew that having Halstead and Dawson pick up the kid was a bad idea – I should have sent Al instead. Although Jay’s “demon” was completely fine with me – after all I had done much worse – with Jay it was reprehensible. He had expressed before that he wouldn’t step in to stop me get information out of an unwilling suspect however, he would pay no part in the collection of the same. The “kid” had been a 22-year-old man who had gone down to booking with a drug possession charge and a few minor bruises.

I nod slightly – it’s the price of the job and of my team. I know that Halstead runs with his own honour code and I respect a man with a code that he sticks by. Nothing I say right now will help much. I stand, moving to pull my jacket off the peg before turning again. 

“You’ve been punished for your transgression – let it go. You got a murderer off the streets of Chicago. Go to sleep Halstead, I’ll see at the precinct in the morning.”

He hums in agreement before standing to let me out of the door. 

“Thank you, Sir,”

I nod before pulling my leather jacket on and heading for the elevators. I hear the door shut behind me. 

Jay’s POV

My body aches, my butt is smarting but my mind is quiet, my chest is clear and the numb feeling has left finally. I collapse forwards on to my bed and let sleep drag me under into blissful, dreamless sleep. 

It’s the only time that I can sleep unencumbered by nightmares of terrorists with guns and bombs, of body parts and gun fire. It’s strange to me that in the pain of my ass has the effect of calm on me – the almost caring punishment is like a balm to my internal scarring. I, at first, thought that the punishments would cause me more flashbacks and nightmares than ever however, it seems the opposite. 

It seems Voight is helping me put the pieces of my shattered mind back together – dimming the nightmares and worthlessness feeling one punishment at a time- little by little I am being able to function again; sleep again; eat again. 

Voight may have a warped code of conduct, a violent streak towards criminals and a bad habit of breaking the law with every breathe. Yet, leaning against the kitchenette doorway facing the bullpen the next morning I took in my surroundings- the playful bantering between Antonio and Ruzek; the calm half-asleep Olinsky lounging at his desk in the corner and Lindsey leaning against her desk front laughing and talking to Burgess. Voight had taken a strange collection of people and made them a cohesive, dependable team. 

Maybe that was his gift I muse as I sip my strong coffee before moving towards my chair to begin amending my report from last night – he was able to take pieces and make something of them. He had taken a slew of unique people and made a unit, he had taken the broken pieces of me and of Mouse and made us recognisable as humans again. 

I smiled to myself and let the noise of the bullpen wash over me and turned back to my computer screen and focused on the screen in front of me. 

Voight’s POV

I watch from my office out of the window – Jays attention is firmly on the screen in front of him. He is calmer and more focused this morning. As my phone rings and a new case hits the Intelligence Unit, I nod to myself – Antonio was right – Jay fitted well in the team. The perfect next piece of my unit.


End file.
